Kalmarien: Sweetblossoms in Their Midst
by MissBayles
Summary: The story of an Entwife whose search to find her Ent in turn leads her to find her purpose.


Sweetblossoms in Their Midst

Chapter One: The Age of Darkness

It was TaureOhtar, her beloved Ent, who has named her Sweetblossoms for the small white blooms upon the tips of her slender branches.

_"Just Sweetblossoms, my dear Kalmarien Tauremornalome Tasarinan..."_

She smiles to herself. She liked it then in the wake of their love. She loves it now and it's the name she gives whenever she needs to, especially since her name has become unwieldy in its length. Ent names are bound to their lives, and in her long life which spanned several ages, it has become tedious even for her to say it. Sweetblossoms. Yes, she likes its simplicity, and it was just like him to cut to the chase. He was such an unusual Ent, her Fangorn Warrior, seeming more hasty than all the other Ents, yet so patient in her need to cultivate orchards. She smiles forlornly. Her branches still put forth these blooms twice a year, and when they do she feels twice the heaviness in her heart in spite of their loveliness; they, and her simple name, are poignant reminders of the countless centuries they have been apart.

The recent winters have grown longer and more violent. Colder, darker, stormier. She sometimes feels the seasons meld into days, the years rolling into a succession of eras. The days themselves seem to get more difficult to live through.This winter, her branches have strained under the weight of the snow and ice. It was too cold even for a seasoned traveling Entwife. She wanted to uproot and leave but it was the coldness itself that prevented her. Her roots, in need of rest after trudging the earth for many centuries, would not have survived the untimely uprooting. It was only for one winter, she tells herself. Only one winter to root down and rest, to sleep, to restore her energy promising herself to go when it's time..

And today she senses the sun break through a very long and dark season. She wakes up. It is time to go and she must make the effort. She gives her branches a thorough shaking to loosen the ice and frozen blooms. She carefully brushes off the dead leaves where buds of new flowers are beginning to form. Some old leafless twigs still cling to her midbranches. She breaks them off with a quick snap, and combs them off with long twig-like fingers. One more shake, one more check, and she's ready.

She pulls her rooted feet out. She has dug and stretched them very deep in the icy ground, searching for underground warmth and water. It didn't take as much time for her to develop roots as trees, just a matter of hours instead of weeks and months, but she still found it difficult to do. She has begun to like staying in one spot, tree-like. She's also beginning to despair and she's fighting it with all her might, panicking whenever her roots are established. She worries that she can easily give up her quest and forget her own and be tree-like for good, but that she must never do! She will find them; of that she must believe. She looks around, always wary of who might be nearby. Seeing no one, she reaches down to rub her tender feet. They feel numb from being in one spot and from the weight of the earth. Her feet and limbs are badly discolored, but within an hour they look like the rest of her; smooth and light grey-green.

Her dark, dried, and half-frozen green leaves capture the sun's rays. She can feel its energy course through them, making them supple again, yet she's very thirsty in spite of the melting ice. She misses her Ent's home-made draught She walks, occasionally looking back. Behind her she can see a thin line of white cliffs. In front of her, the barren grey ground stretches for hundreds of miles. She chose this open glade to spend this one winter; a shadeless wind-driven land far away from men. There were no trees; just a rare shrub or a stunted brush here and there, and the occasional frozen clump of tall grass.

She pauses to watch several furry creatures dash past her, the first sign of active life on this frozen limbo. She has not seen their kind in some time since she came across several Hobbit children at the edge of the Shire chasing and catching a couple of coneys, and laughingly releasing them after petting them and feeding them wild lettuce. That's when they found her. They were never fooled by her stillness. Their curisosity overcame their fear and they grew to trust her. She learned, and still remembers, all their names.

There was Faramir Took, who would swing on her limber branches.

_"Higher, Sweetblossoms, higher! Pleeease?..."_

And Elanor and Goldilocks Gamgee, who loved climbing onto her topmost branches, would ask her to take them for walks.

_"Can you take us to the Brandywine, please Sweetblossoms?"_

She would acquiesce and the other Hobbit children would go wild with glee, for swinging on her branches and out onto the river was one of their greatest joys.

It was in one of these river excursions that she met the Mayor.

_A Hobbit on a pony rode up to where the children were swimming. He got off the pony and ran towards them in excitement. Fearing being discovered, she immediately closed her eyes and stood still, rooting her feet down, looking tree-like. The children paused their games._

_"Aiya! Vande omentaina!" The Hobbit said softly to her, almost whispering but still with great agitation, his eyes glistening with tears. "It's been many years and long after the War of the Ring that I have seen and spoken to an Ent! And you're an Enwife, even! Treebeard spoke of the loss of the Entwives, and now you're here!"_

_She opened her eyes at the manner of his address, and at the mention of Treebeard. She gently extended her branch to him. He took it in greeting. _

_"I'm Samwise. Samwise Gamgee." The children, no longer fearful for their Entwife friend, smiled at this exchange and gathered around them._

_"He's our dad," said Elanor and Goldilocks, smiling proudly._

_"And the Mayor of the Shire. I've heard of you and your bravery, gentle Hobbit," she said to him, no longer in fear but in awe. "In my wanderings, I would hear news of the dark days of Sauron and the ensuing War, the victory of Aragorn Telcontar, of you and Frodo's part in the destruction of the ring. I would also hear of Saruman's plunder of the trees of Fangorn Forest and the Fall of Isengard, his attempt to enslave the Shire, and your victory against him." _

_She saw the Mayor blush and look about him in humility._

_"I am Kalmarien, but I prefer to be called Sweetblossoms," she introduced herself. "You have met the great Treebeard? Dear gentle Hobbit, will you tell me more?" she asked him, checking her emotion. _

_He told her of his friends Merry and Pippin and their chance meeting with Treebeard when they escaped from their captors and ran into Fangorn Forest. It was they, he said, who fought with Treebeard against Saruman's attack on Fangorn Forest. It would be after the War of the Ring that he and his friend Frodo would meet Treebeard and the Ents while recuperating in Ithilien. He watched them leave for Fangorn Forest. She listened, hoping to hear of that one name. He sensed her need and asked her._

_"Who is your Ent?"_

_"TaureOhtar, called Treewarrior," she shyly replied. He smiled in recognition of the name._

_"Yes! I remember him! A tall medlar, but slender! Of all the Ents he was the most passionate in his defense of the trees!"_

_She bent her limbs to be lower, to be as close to Samwise's eye level as she could. She took his hands again in gratitude._

_"Hantalyel! Hantalyel, Herunya!"_

_But true to her Entish, unhasty nature, she didn't leave until many years later. She saw her beloved Hobbit children grow up. Faramir Took and Goldilocks married and had children of their own. Mayor Samwise was re-elected five more times. She had the pleasure of meeting his wife Rose and the rest of his children, and Merry and Pippin and their families. Sadly she never did meet Frodo; he had already left for Tol-Eressa when she arrived at the Shire._

_And one day, she announced the time for her to leave. It was time to find her way back to Fangorn Forest. They all gathered around her one final time, subdued._

_"Nire tule i lumesse autielyo," the Mayor said in the same whispered tone that he spoke years before, eyes holding back tears. "We will miss you, Sweetblossoms."_

_"Namarie, Herunya," she replied in the same emotioned-filled tone. She hugged them, then set out for Fangorn Forest. _

_Her Ent might as well have named her Stubborn Mule with Attention Deficit and a Terrible Sense of Direction. She saw orchards in need of nurturing wherever she went._

_"He would be upset with me again," she would tell herself each time she tarried. She then travelled East until she couldn't recognize the trees. She had gone too far, and in turning back she couldn't find her way back to the Shire. In fact, she was sorely exasperatingly, lost._

She wallks on ice for hundreds of miles, thinking of the Shire, thinking of Fangorn Forest, and thinking of how perhaps she should have listened to her Ent, until she finally reaches unhewn ground. Glad to be off of the freezing ice, she walks until she comes across a hard, cultured road. Though she supposes that she ought to appreciate the even ground and its warmth and ease at this point, she actually prefers the softer, unhewn ground. She heightens her senses, looking down the highway, and marking areas she can go to root at short notice.

Cultured roads signify a race of men, a race she has cause to avoid as much a she can.


End file.
